


He Says He Loves Me

by posingasme



Series: They Say They Love Me [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mixed Martial Arts, Nurse Meg Masters, Past Child Abuse, Past Ruby/Sam Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dean Winchester, Survivor Guilt, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Things are so much better with Castiel than they ever could have been with Ruby. But even if Castiel is the one who treats him right, Sam wonders if it’s still all wrong.





	He Says He Loves Me

**Author's Note:**

> Read tags

Sam’s eyes were closed tightly.

_“I said I love you. I know you've heard that before, but you haven't heard it the way it's meant to be said. I love you, Sam. Let me love you.”_

The voice was inside his head, making him promises that still terrified him.

What the hell was wrong with him?

The sound of a gloved hand hitting leather made him flinch and open his eyes. Castiel had moved on from the makiwara to the punching bag. Sam watched his lover strike the bag mercilessly, with calculated, exact moves. The man’s muscular back and arms were on full display in the sleeveless shirt, but for the first time, Sam couldn’t enjoy it the way he should.

All he could see was Castiel, gentle lover Castiel, with his eyes flashing in fierce concentration, practicing to hit a human.

Sam swallowed several times, as a heat bloomed under his tongue. Sweat came to his brow suddenly. He closed his eyes again, and willed himself into not vomiting.

“You okay, kid?”

He blinked rapidly, and looked up. He gulped in a deep breath. “What? Me? Yeah, I’m...I’m…”

The woman had blond, cropped hair, a small frame, and intensely intelligent eyes. She continued unwrapping her left hand and wrist from the handwrap which had been under her glove. But she was keeping an eye on Sam. Now she shrugged. “If you’re going to say you’re fine, don’t bother. I’m an RN, kid. I don’t care if you’re okay or not, but don’t pretend you are if you’re not.”

That was the strangest piece of advice he had ever received from a medical source. “I’m...not,” he muttered.

She snorted. She used her teeth to hold the wrap while her hands worked. She spoke around it. “Not what? Not fine? Or not pretending to be?”

“Meg! You out for tonight?”

The woman looked up. “Yeah, you guys suck, and I’m bored of kicking your asses. If a challenge walks in, or Cas decides to pick on somebody his own size, let me know. I’ve got a shift in the morning. I’m not here to waste my time on you bitches.”

Three men in the dojo began to laugh, but from Sam’s vantage point in the viewing area, he saw Castiel turn and smile. The same wicked, confident smirk, which might have melted him into a puddle of desire another day, only made Sam’s stomach cringe now.

“You’re hardly my size,” his deep voice corrected calmly. “But if you’d like to spar, I’m happy to oblige.”

Meg’s grin was feral. “I always like to spar,” she said. “Give me a minute to fix my handwrap, and we’ll go.”

“Be easy on that wrist, Meg,” Castiel called.

“Yes, Clarence. Show of hands. Which of us is a real nurse and who just plays one on TV?”

Castiel scowled at her, but didn’t respond. Sam didn’t know why Meg called him that sometimes. Castiel had muttered something about an angel once, that it was sarcasm about him being such a nice guy, but had not elaborated. All Sam knew was that Castiel got flummoxed every time she said it because he didn’t know how to respond. “It’s more of a compliment than a jab, I think, but I’m always a little worried it’s a flirtation,” he had grumbled. “Especially when she winks.”

Normally, Sam loved watching Castiel spar. It was all safe, and he didn’t have to worry that Castiel was in any danger. He could just sit back and enjoy the show. But today seemed different, for no reason Sam could figure out. He frowned down at the textbook in his lap. He hadn’t succeeded in studying at all today. What was wrong with him?

“We can do holds instead of boxing, if you prefer,” Castiel offered. “Or a bit of taekwondo.”

Meg laughed. “Oh, Clarence. I’ll destroy you in taekwondo.”

Castiel began to grin. He gestured to her as if asking her to dance.

Sam watched as the two of them entered the sparring circle, and took a deep breath while they gave the respectful bow. Then his heart started to race as they each dropped into a defensive position, and began to circle. Sam noticed the other men, including the sensei, gathering to watch, but his gaze was set on Castiel.

Before his stomach was in any way prepared, each fighter moved and there was a tangle of limbs. Meg was jabbing, but Castiel was blocking, and then he used a push kick to get his distance back. They were both wickedly fast, and though they both wore mouth guards, neither had donned a competition helmet, so Sam could see both faces clearly.

The stunning beauty of the fight was lost on Sam for once. He should have been in awe of the way each of them moved, each attack countered with grace and precision. Castiel’s strength came from his back and legs; Meg’s came from her core. Sam should have been enjoying the lithe beauty in Meg’s arms and the sexy power in Castiel’s.

One instant, he was watching lethal dancers in motion; the next, he was scrambling for the door, gasping for breath to keep from throwing up.

A hand was on his shoulder, and before he could stop himself, he turned to swing wildly, blindly, at his attacker.

Castiel, of course, blocked him easily. He stared up at Sam with worry. “Sam? What is it? What’s wrong?”

The panicked fog in his head began to clear, and Sam realized he was outside the dojo, leaning pitifully against the brick front of the building. And he had just thrown a fist at his lover.

“Sam?”

He burst into tears. “I’m so sorry! Cas, I’m so-I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’m so sorry!”

Then Castiel’s arms were holding him. He smelled of sweat and soap and warmth, and something about it calmed Sam gradually. “I’ve got you, Sam. It’s okay.”

“He all right?” The female voice was quiet, coming from the dojo entrance.

Castiel stepped back to look into Sam’s face. “I think so.”

Meg took a breath. “Cas? Talk to me before you go, okay?”

Sam was swallowing his tears, forcing calm where there had been only dread a moment ago. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. Go. I’ll be right here.”

His lover watched him carefully, then he nodded. “I’ll be back in one minute,” he promised. “Call to me if you need me.”

He nodded, and sat on the sidewalk curb, rested his arms on his knees. He was exhausted suddenly.

What the hell was wrong with him?

***

Meg’s words followed him all the way back to the apartment. For his part, Sam was not in the mood to speak. He stared out the window blankly, and Castiel let him rest. Even when they reached the apartment, and Dean offered them a late dinner, Castiel simply shook his head while Sam ignored him completely in favor of marching to his bedroom. Castiel put a hand up to Dean when he frowned.

“He’s okay. Just a long day. I’ll let you know,” he said quietly.

It went against Dean’s nature, but he nodded and backed off. Castiel appreciated that.

He knocked at Sam’s door. He shared that room with him often now, but it was still Sam’s room, and the young man had closed the door when he went in.

“You don’t have to knock, man,” Sam called sullenly.

Castiel sighed, and let himself in. “Maybe not. But I should. It’s just polite. Respectful of your space.”

Sam was sitting on his bed with his knees to his chest. Castiel couldn’t remember ever seeing him curled into himself in quite that way. As a martial artist and a photographer, he was always very aware of body language. It was more of a pleasure than a study when the body was Sam’s.

He sat gingerly at the foot of the bed. “Sam, I’d like to shower, but then we need to talk about what just happened.”

“I said I’m sorry.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Yes. Many times. But that’s not a conversation.”

Sam wasn’t meeting his eyes. “What’s to talk about, Cas? I tried to hit you.” His voice broke, but he cleared his throat. “It was a reflex. That’s all. I didn’t feel well, wasn’t thinking right, and when you touched me, I-I guess I just…” He took a deep breath. Castiel could hear the frustration. “I’m sorry. But that’s why you train, right? You blocked me without a thought. So no harm done. Right?”

Castiel licked at his lips. “I’m unharmed,” he agreed. “But I’m not sure about you. Listen. I’m going to shower, and I need to chug some water, eat a banana or something.”

At last, Sam smiled up at him from his defensive position. “Want me to make you a PB&J?”

Fondness flushed through him, and he smiled back. “You are wonderful. You don’t have to do that. But if you feel like it, you know it always tastes better when you make it.”

Sam huffed a tiny laugh. “You always say that. I don’t have any skill, Cas. Dean got all the culinary talent.”

“Hm.” He leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Maybe. You got all the beauty and brains, though. And your sandwiches are unrivaled.”

He could feel Sam’s pleasure beam from him. “Then shower, and I’ll have a sandwich and water waiting for you.”

After just a few minutes of scrubbing off his time at the dojo, Castiel resurfaced from his own bedroom in pajama pants and a clean sleeveless shirt. Sam was talking to the dogs.

“Good boy. Good girl. Hey. Don’t eat so fast! You’re as bad as Uncle Dean!”

Castiel snickered. “Gave up on training your brother, but still working on your pups, I see.”

Sam shrugged. “Dean will be the one I need to take to the vet one day. Come sit. I have a culinary masterpiece awaiting.”

He knew Sam was teasing, but he couldn’t help being excited anyway. A peanut butter sandwich made with jelly-not jam, that was disturbing-made by Sam’s hands was like Heaven in compact form. Comfort food like no other sat at his space at the small dining table. He sighed happily.

Sam sat across from him. Each of them had a cold water bottle, and Castiel also noted the glass of milk next to his meal.

“Not eating?”

“I’m not hungry. My stomach was weird today.”

Castiel knew as well as anyone that Sam had a sensitive stomach, though he didn’t complain the way Dean did. “Do you feel like talking?”

“Not really. But you want to. So…”

He sighed. “Sam, you ran out of the dojo like something was chasing you. Then I touched you and you swung at me. You didn’t speak to your brother on your way in, and you’re not eating now. I’d like to know what’s going on.”

Sam wouldn’t meet his gaze. His voice was small. “I honestly don’t know. I was fine. I’m tired. I’ve been tired all day. But then I wasn’t able to study while you worked out, like I usually can. All I could think about was you…”

“Punching someone,” he murmured.

His lover’s eyes rolled up to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah. Stupid, right? I’ve seen you spar a thousand times, man! Why should today be different?”

Castiel shrugged quietly. “Maybe it just was.”

“What? Different? It wasn’t! It was exactly like every other time!”

“Except that today was different because you experienced it differently.”

Tears were sparkling in Sam’s sweet hazel brown eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

He sat back from his quickly disappearing sandwich. “It might, if you have some sort of PTSD.”

Sam stared. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Castiel wiped his hands on his napkin carefully. “Sam? Dean once told me...Your relationship with your dad was...complicated, wasn’t it?”

Desperation filled his lover’s eyes. “What? No! Why? What did Dean say?”

He licked his lips. “Sam, I know your dad used to beat Dean when he drank.”

Sam pushed up to his feet, and stumbled backward. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

But Castiel leapt up and took Sam into his arms. He found the man trembling badly. “Shh. Okay. You don’t have to. I just...I wonder if part of why you let Ruby treat you the way she did-“

“That’s over! That’s been over for weeks! Months!”

He nodded. “It has. I know. But maybe you’re finally dealing with some of these things now. Ruby hitting you reminded you of the way your father hit Dean. And me punching a bag or a sparring partner reminds you of Ruby, maybe.”

“You’re nothing like he was!” Sam snapped loudly.

Castiel waited.

The young man swallowed and stepped back again. “She. Like she was. You’re nothing like her.”

He took a long breath. “Sam? I would never hurt someone who wasn’t threatening me or someone else. If I had literally any other way to end a conflict, I would not use violence. I train for a lot of reasons, mostly for the exercise and the challenge, but also so I could protect myself and someone else if ever called upon to do so. I would protect those who cannot or would not protect themselves. But I would never use violence to solve any problem. Only to end a threat. Even then, I would use as little force as possible to get the job done. I don’t train so I can hurt people, Sam. I train so I can protect them.”

The tears spilled over suddenly, in a wave. Sam gasped, choking on a sob. “He used to say he was beating sense into him. Into Dean. That it was the only way to get through his hard head. That Dean couldn’t understand any other way.”

Castiel flinched. He knew how hard-headed his best friend was. But there was never any justification for hitting a child in anger.

Sam’s voice was quiet. It sounded as though he was strangling. “Dean, he-he always worried-he worried Dad would turn on me. So-so he always drew fire, kept the focus on him so it wouldn’t be me.”

“Sam, I’m so sorry.”

“He wouldn’t let it be me,” he hissed. “But I wasn’t big enough, and I was too scared to help him. Nobody stood up for him, be-because I was too weak to do it.”

A gruff voice came from the hall, and Castiel sighed, unsurprised. Of course big brother was listening. “Sammy, wasn’t nothing you could have done. I was fine. I’m fine.”

Sam’s tears came hard now. “You weren’t fine! You weren’t any more fine than I was with Ruby! You weren’t any more fine than I was when Dad told me he better not catch me doing the same things he beat your ass for! And at least half the time, I was the one! I was the one who had screwed up, but you’re the one...the one who…”

Dean crossed the distance between them quickly, and took hold of his kid brother inside strong arms. Castiel watched with a breaking heart. “It’s okay. It’s okay, man.”

“It’s not okay!” Sam screamed hoarsely. “It was never okay! Every damn time Ruby hit me, I wanted it to be him! Because I’m the one who deserved it, Dean! Not you!”

“Neither of you deserved that, Sam,” Castiel said softly. “Not from your dad, and not from Ruby.”

Sam shoved his brother away, and shook his head angrily. “I pissed him off, and he took it out on Dean. I screwed up, and he wailed on Dean. Do you know what that does to me?” He addressed his brother now. “You don’t get it! I’m not afraid of Cas hurting me! I want him to! I want him to hit me!”

Dean stepped back. His face was tight with shock and horror. “What?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed.

“Ruby had issues. But not like I do. I need someone who will hit me. I didn’t understand until today, when I watched Cas spar! I can’t watch it again! If he’s going to be angry, it has to be me! Ruby knew what I deserved! Dad thought it was you. But you and I both knew who it should have been. It should have been me.”

Dean and Castiel stood in stunned silence as the large young man stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. They did not even glance at one another until they heard one of the dogs whimper nervously.

Dean cleared his throat. “Cas?” he muttered quietly. “I’m going to back off. But you gotta know how hard that is. He’s right. I’ve been protecting him his whole life. So it ain’t easy for me to give you the chance to do it now. Promise me you’ll make this better or you’ll come to me.”

“Now that we know what’s going on in his head, I promise you I won’t let him suffer. You have my word.”

“You’ll tell me if he needs me.”

“Always.”

Dean took a deep breath. “Then go get him, tiger.”

Castiel put his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Make this better. I’m trusting you.”

Dean was trusting him with the most important person in the world. Castiel would never take that for granted. Every instinct was telling Dean to push past his friend and go to Sam. But he was grinding his teeth, and letting Castiel be there for his lover. The enormity of that act of faith was not lost on Castiel.

He loved Sam so dearly. And Dean was the best friend he had ever had. There was no chance he was going to let either of them down.

~~~

Sam was shaking badly. He thought about the woman at the dojo, Meg, the nurse. She had been the one to put all this PTSD talk into Castiel’s head. He knew it. It was ridiculous. John had suffered from PTSD. He had been diagnosed at the VA. John had been to war. What had Sam ever done? There was no trauma in his background. He had never spent a day in uniform.

He stared at himself in the mirror. “It’s not PTSD. That’s stupid. That’s for real problems. That’s for guys like my dad, war heroes. Not for selfish brats who let their big brothers take the fall for their mistakes.”

It had never consciously crossed his mind how much he wanted someone to hit him, to correct him the way Dean had been corrected for his stupid kid brother’s screw-ups. Ruby had told him how pathetic he was, and, though it hurt, the ring of truth stung his ears every time she slapped him. She said the things John never told him, but things Sam deserved to hear. Things John had said to Dean when it was really Sam’s fault but his hard-headed big brother refused to say so.

God, he had hated Dean for that. “Just tell him it was me!” he had hissed more than once after Dean had come under fire. “That I lost the money, and you stole the peanut butter because I was hungry! That I was the one who-“

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean had said every time. “It’s fine. I’m fine. And anyway, your scrawny ass can’t take a hit like I can. I got a hard head, remember? It’s less trouble to let him punish me than to clean your dumb ass up off the floor after he’s done with you. So just shut up. Get me that rag. I’m bleeding on the damn bedsheets.”

“Dean-“

Green eyes flashed behind the bruising. “Sam? Let it alone.”

How many nights had he squeezed his eyes closed and tried to block out the shouting? How many times had he heard Dean tell some girl at school that he had won a street fight the night before, and watched him grin through a split lip? How many times had he promised himself that he would stand up next time, and put himself between John and his brother the way Dean had for years? And now that he was older and larger, how many times had he wished someone would give him what he deserved instead of letting Dean take the heat for it like when they were children? Sam could handle it now. Maybe he was too little before, but he could take that hit now, and spare Dean what was meant for him.

“That’s called survivor’s guilt.”

Sam jerked his head up to find his lover closing the bedroom door behind him softly. Gentle lover Castiel. Fearsome fighter Castiel, who would never hurt anyone. “What?”

“Sam,” the deep voice murmured, “may I sit with you?”

He sighed, and lowered himself to the bed, gesturing for Castiel to join him.

“Sam, let me speak, then you can say or do whatever you feel is necessary. Is that fair?”

Fair. God, why was Castiel always so damn delicate with him? He wasn’t going to break, he wanted to shout. He wasn’t helpless anymore! Why couldn’t the man just get angry, just tell Sam what a stupid freak he was being, and...and beat some sense into him? “God, Cas, I’m so messed up. I’m so sorry.”

“Sam, let me speak.” The voice was firm and gentle at the same time, and it sounded all wrong.

How could strength sound kind?

“Sam, the first thing I want to say is that I love you. I love you, and Dean loves you, and we aren’t going to hurt you the way you think you deserve. Not ever. We see things differently. Sam, you’re not the reason for Dean’s suffering. You’re his reason for surviving it.”

Sam’s eyes lifted, and even if he couldn’t swallow, even if he couldn’t speak, he could feel his soul leaning desperately toward those words. He didn’t know what Castiel meant, but something told him it was what he needed to hear.

“My love, I’ve known Dean a long time. And I’ve seen him in some bad spots. There have been nights, before you lived with us, while you still lived on campus, that he drank until I thought I would have to take him to the hospital. There were times he was barely hanging on at all. But he always said the same thing. If it weren’t for Sammy.”

His voice was hoarse. “What-What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If it weren’t for Sam, he always said. He never finished that sentence. But I knew what he meant. It was the phrase that made him keep hanging on. The one that kept him fighting all those years ago, and the one that still gets him through dark days. If it weren’t for you...Sam, he would have let it eat him up entirely. You’re not what hurt him, Sam. You’re what gave him the strength to keep going while he was hurt. You still are.”

“No,” he murmured. “No, you misunderstood it. If it weren’t for me,” he choked out, “if it weren’t for his stupid kid brother, he could have gotten himself free back then. He wouldn’t be stuck here now! The work he does, he can work anywhere. He’s here because of me. If it-if it weren’t for me, if I weren’t sucking the life out of him like I always have, he could be anywhere. That’s what he means when he says it, Cas! He won’t say it sober, but-“

Castiel was shaking his head. Again, the firmness was there, the cool confidence that Sam himself could only fake, “You’re wrong. I’m sorry, my love. You’re wrong about this. I know you look up to Dean. I do too, in a lot of ways. But at least in this way, I know his heart better than you. He doesn’t resent you, Sam. He’s grateful for you. Just as I’m grateful for you. Every moment of every day, Sam, I’m grateful that you let me love you.”

Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and exhaustion was weighing on him. “Why would you want this?” he hissed. “Either of you! I’ve never been anything but this freak, this needy, pathetic-“

“Don’t use her words.”

Sam looked up at the tone. For the first time, he was detecting a sharpness to Castiel’s deep voice. “What?”

His lover took a deep breath. “Please don’t use her words to describe you. Ruby used those words to hurt you. They don’t belong in this conversation between us.”

His heart began to pound. “She used those words because those are the right ones! You think you know Dean better than I do? Well, maybe Ruby knew me better than you.”

A spark of rare anger lit Castiel’s eyes, and it was both terrifying and morbidly fascinating. “Sam, stop.”

But he was finally getting the reaction he should have gotten so long ago. He was shaking badly, and he knew he couldn’t trust himself to stand. After towering over him all the time they had known one another, Sam suddenly felt smaller than this man. It was the way it was supposed to be finally. “Ruby told me what I needed to hear, and she knew how to get through my hard head,” Sam spat. “She knew me better than you do. You don’t like the way she treated me, but you never even noticed me! I’ve never deserved you, and you knew it. Ruby was exactly what I deserved, and she knew what I was worth. Nothing.”

Blue eyes narrowed, and Castiel’s voice grew colder. “Don’t. Sam, stop this. I know you’re trying to make me lash out, and I won’t. So please don’t-“

“Jesus, Castiel! Doesn’t part of you want to know what it would be like to snap? How good it would feel to just shut me up? Just do it! You know you can! Why do you hold back? I can take it, Cas! I’m not a kid anymore! What’s the point in holding back? You know how many times Dean wanted to kick my ass after I got him beat? But he wouldn’t, because-because I was too little, and-and I’m not a kid anymore! So just do it!”

“I’m not going to hurt you!”

“If you loved me, you would feel something!”

“What?” Castiel cried out.

“You say you love me, but you don’t feel anything! At least Ruby cared enough to get angry!”

The flinch on Castiel’s face was vicious. It looked exactly like Sam had slapped him.

Suddenly, Sam truly couldn’t breathe. He tried to take a breath, but his chest was too tight. He shook his head until finally he sobbed in the air he was grasping for. “I’m sorry. Cas, please. I’m so sorry.”

Castiel stood slowly and took a step away. “Don’t talk to me like that,” he whispered.

The words crushed Sam entirely. “Castiel, I’m sorry.”

“No. No, Sam, I cannot let you talk to me like that. You’re trying to provoke me, into-into what? Hitting you? Shouting back? Leaving you?”

The trembling was violent. “I don’t know.”

The man, that beautiful, careful man, stared down at him. “Sam, you’re in a lot of pain, and I think you’re a little confused right now. So I’ll say it again if I need to, until you understand. Everyone gets angry, Sam. Everyone. You don’t get to tell me what I feel. Just like Ruby had no right to tell you what you’re worth.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop. Please listen. Can you listen?”

It was an honest question, Sam realized. He sighed, and tried to calm his aching heart. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because I’m going to tell you something no one but Dean knows. And I’d rather not, but I think you should know.” Castiel cleared his throat. “I never told you why I began mixed martial arts.”

Sam blinked up at him. “I-I thought you always did karate or something.”

He shook his head, and sat back down. “I did taekwondo, judo and hapkido since I was a kid, and I wrestled in high school. That’s how I met Dean. We competed against one another at States one year, and stayed in touch.”

“I remember.” Of course he remembered. He had been unable to focus on Dean’s matches at that tournament because of the wrestler on the other end of the gym.

“Right. But at the time, while I was in high school, when I was trying to figure myself out, my sexuality and everything, I was terrified. All the time.”

“Of what?”

“Of feeling too much. Of being found out because I wasn’t disciplined enough to hide myself. I started training all the time, anything I could learn. Kung fu, jujitsu, boxing. Anything to keep me strong enough. Anything to keep from feeling vulnerable. Mixed martial arts let me use everything I learned, and it also utilized my ability to change tactics so fast and so subtly that my opponents could never read me. Because I’ve always been terrified of anyone reading me.”

Sam frowned in confusion. The man was right. He was feeling disoriented. “I didn’t even know you were closeted in high school.”

A strange laugh came from his friend now. “Closeted. I was padlocked! I was so closed off, so disconnected from what I really was, that I may as well have been no one at all. It took me years to chip away till I found the real me inside the living stone I carved for myself. It wasn’t all about being gay. That was just part of it. It was just a dread, a feeling that somehow I wasn’t what I should be, and I could never let anyone find out.” He shrugged sadly. “Sam, if I don’t anger easily, or if you can’t see it...I do feel things. Passionately. Intensely. I’m not sorry you can’t sense my anger, but...but I’m heartbroken that you can’t feel my love. That you could possibly think I don’t care. If you truly can’t see that I love you...then I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, Sam. I’m the one who has failed. I tried so hard, and for so long, to hide how deeply I feel everything, that now I can’t show you when it matters most.”

Fresh tears stung his eyes. This was his fault, and he needed to fix it. “Cas, I’m so sorry. It isn’t you. I know you love me. I do. God, I’m so messed up. I just can’t make myself stop pushing you, prodding you, trying to make you snap. I want to make you lash out, like you said, because...because I need to…”

“You need to feel what Dean felt. But, Sam, Dean never should have been made to feel that either. The solution isn’t to balance it out with your pain! It won’t relieve your guilt because it isn’t your fault to begin with! Sam, I was a kid when I learned to vent my emotions with training. Maybe I didn’t do it the right way, but I did it. Your father, Ruby, they never bothered to learn that. And I get that they each have their own issues, okay, but that doesn’t excuse them for punishing you and your brother for their own emotions.”

The words blew Sam back, and he sat up straighter.

Castiel smiled at him wearily. “See? I punished myself for my emotions. I was brutal. Unforgiving. Severe. Your father felt those same things, and he punished Dean for them. You feel them, and so you think it should’ve been you who was punished. And the truth is that feeling this stuff, being angry or scared, that’s okay, and we learn to become stronger, and we learn to reach out for help when we feel weak. We don’t have to beat on someone weaker to feel strong again. I pick friendly fights with Meg and the guys for the challenge of it, and I’m not tempted to fight against myself anymore. Ruby couldn’t fix her own issues, so she used your insecurities against you. Your dad couldn’t take on his own problems, so he beat up your brother. You felt helpless then, and you want another chance to feel the pain you think Dean took for you. To prove that you can take it. That’s not how it works, Sam. It’s all just more pain, and it doesn’t fix anything.”

“I couldn’t help him. I was too little. Too stupid. Too angry to stop making Dad angry. Too selfish to take the punishment myself. I’m in college now, Cas. It turns out I’m smart. And-and I’m big. I’m a damn monster now, bigger than Dad ever was. I can take it now. What Dean took for me.”

But Castiel was holding him suddenly, and it felt so good to be held. He was too big to need it, too strong, too old, to need it. He wanted it, though. It shamed him into squeezing his eyes shut.

“I let him take care of me. I don’t deserve to let you take care of me too, especially not now that I don’t need it.”

“Let me anyway,” his lover whispered into his hair. “I train so I can be a protector. You don’t have to need me. Let me watch over you anyway. And be patient with me while I learn to show you how grateful I am that you do.”

Sam held him tighter, and wept.

***

Dean stepped lightly away from the door, and looked down to find the two dogs gazing at him in smug accusation. He smirked. “Judgy,” he muttered at them. “Like you don’t listen at doorways.” He gave them each a pat, which seemed to satisfy them, and sighed. “If it weren’t for Sammy, I never would have made it. And I hope he lets Cas heal him. If he could only see the way we love him, maybe he would understand,” he said softly.


End file.
